


Dead at the Door

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Cas cures Meg but they're gonna die anyway, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She holds him while he's dying, while the infection takes hold and the dead are scratching at their door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead at the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Chizzu's birthday over on tumblr.

Meg stayed huddled under her blanket as the sun rose, watching as light spread over the ruined city beneath her. A strong gust of wind came through the broken window, blowing strands of hair around her face and sending clouds of ash billowing toward the sky. Castiel moaned in pain behind her, his voice joining the chorus of moans that sounded just behind the room’s only door. The dead had scratched at it all night, trying to burst through her barricade.

They hadn’t made it, but she knew they would, eventually.

“Meg,” Castiel called feebly from the pile of blankets she’d piled around him. “Meg, come here.”

Meg obeyed, pulling her thin blanket tighter around her shoulders with one hand while her gun dangled from her other fist. She sank down on her knees next to his makeshift bed and frowned, shoving the gun through the back of her jeans to feel his forehead. His skin burned with fever even as he shivered. “What is it?”

“Need…to go,” he breathed.

“Your bandage needs changing,” she said. Meg rummaged through their back for fresh ones and pulled the dirty blankets off his body.

“No. You need to leave,” he insisted. “Before I…before—”

“There’s nowhere else to go,” she snapped. The dead blocked the only exit from the room they’d fled to. She only had two bullets left. Castiel was too sick to fight.

“Blankets. Tie together. Make a rope. _Run.”_

“And how far would I get without you?” she grumbled. Meg wrinkled her nose as she pulled off his bandage. The rotting smell wafting from the bite mark filled the small room. Meg threw the soiled bandage toward the corner, used some of their precious water to wash the wound, and wound new bandages around his forearm. “This is the end of the line, Clarence.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Shouldn’t have cured you.”

Meg shrugged. The dead continued to claw at the door. “Better this than Hell.”

Castiel shook his head weakly. “Run. I’ll turn.”

“Not for another few hours.”

“Then what will you do?”

Meg refused to answer and finished bandaging his arm. “Go back to sleep. I’ll watch the door.”

“Dead won’t get in,” he whispered. “Come to bed.”

She hesitated and then crawled in beside him, the thin blankets barely cushioning their backs against the hard floor. He threw his injured arm around her and pulled her to his chest, careful to keep the wound away from her exposed skin.

His body heat filled the small space, making it unbearably warm. She stayed anyway and allowed him to cuddle her, pressed her forehead against his chest and slid her own arm around him.

“You’ll stay?” he asked quietly. Meg nodded against his chest and reached for her gun. She pressed it against the bottom of his chin.

Meg almost laughed. It was funny, in a way. Thousands of years on Earth as a demon and she would die alone and shivering on the ground, just as she had the first time, when she was human. Castiel would go first, she knew, leaving her with one bullet in her gun and a corpse in her arms.

She would follow. The world was finished, filled with the dead and dying while clouds of ash blocked out the sun and made it impossible for things to grow and humanity to survive.

Castiel clutched her harder.

“Go to sleep,” she repeated firmly. “I’ll take care of it, Clarence.”

“Before I turn.”

“Sure.”

Relaxing against him, Meg gripped her gun harder and listened to the sounds of his breathing and the dead scratching at their door.


End file.
